


INSOMNIA

by moonminso



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 12:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonminso/pseuds/moonminso
Summary: Chan leaves for a semester-long exchange program, and Minho has a hard time adjusting to his absence. Cue emotional phone calls.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first work, so I hope its up to par. I wrote this last night instead of sleeping lmao  
> Any grammatical mistakes are on me, as this isn't proofread by anyone.   
> Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!

Minho rolled out of bed, feet meeting the cold wood with a muted thump. He glanced to Woojin, who was sleeping peacefully in the bed across the room. As quietly as he could, he plucked a hoodie off the floor and snatched his phone from where it was charging on his nightstand, slipping out and letting the door click gently shut.

A small huff of relief escaped him as he started for the front door. The dorm room was familiar enough that he could easily sidestep furniture and scattered books, but Minho still knocked over a stack of papers on his way. He froze on the spot, shoulders nearly touching his ears as he listened for any sign of Woojin waking up.

Nothing. He was safe.

Once the cool night air finally surrounded him, Minho allowed himself to relax. Woojin was asleep, and he was outside. He started to his right, towards the alley where the rickety fire-escape leading to the roof was, rusty and probably unsafe, but usable. God knows he’d get chewed out if anyone found out he was still using it.

The metal squeaked and groaned under his feet, but as always, it held. The wind was stronger up on the roof, ruffling his hair and making his ears sting a little. The autumn chill was beginning to creep into the mild September weather. Before long, he would have to stop coming here.

Minho settled down with his back to the city, leaning against the chain-link fence that lined the perimeter of the roof. With slightly reddened fingers, he pulled out his phone, stroking his thumb across the black screen. No calls, no texts. It should be around midday in Europe now.

The fence rattled weakly as his head thumped against it. Minho stared up at the sky, stars all but invisible in the city’s light polluted scenery. He had never really seen the stars, not fully. Chan had said once that even the white of the Milky Way was visible, out in the country.

Minho squeezed his eyes shut. _Chan._

It had only been a month, but it felt like years. He had promised that the long distance thing would work out in the semester he would be gone, but Minho had never felt so lost. Every day that went by, the spaces that used to be Chan’s got more dull, as though his presence was disappearing. As though he was never there at all.

There was a hole in Minho’s everyday life that seemed almost impossible to fill. He didn’t _want_ to fill it.

Did Chan feel the same? Did he see Minho’s face in random passerby’s on the street? Did he stare at the cold, empty side of the bed at night? Did he bury his nose in the sweater he borrowed from Minho, just to get a faint hint of his scent?

Or would he find a nice European guy? One who could treat him better than Minho could, one that took care of him and was never too busy for him, one that was every bit the man he could never be?

Minho looked back down at his phone, hesitating a little before unlocking it and going into his contacts. He didn’t have to scroll to see Chan’s. It stood out, littered in little heart emoticons that had made Chan laugh when he saw it.

His thumb hovered over the call button for a painful moment. Chan would probably ask why he was up so late, but he couldn’t sleep. He never could, these days. It took every bit of strength in his body to fight through his pulsating anxiety and press call. With a quivering hand, he brought his phone up to his ear, and waited.

The dial tone droned on for what felt like hours, until –

“Minho? Hi!” Chan’s warm voice greeted at the other end. Minho let his forehead drop to his knees, taking in a long, shuddering breath to calm his volatile heart.

“Hey – are you alright?” Chan asked, confused and a little worried. Minho recognized every shift in tone, even without seeing his face. He took a second to relish in the familiarity.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said quietly. “How are you?”

There was a slight pause. Chan was probably frowning a little, wondering if he should let that little slip-up go.

“I’m alright, still settling in. You won’t believe the schedule I have here, man. It’s insane.” He had chosen to let it go. Minho cracked a smile, feeling the salty taste of tears spread across his tongue.

“Bet you love every second of it.” His voice was soft, but the fondness contained within it was palpable. Chan seemed to notice, because he took another small pause before replying again.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” he said eventually, though the tone had changed from its usual cheeriness. “Are you sure you’re okay, Minho? It’s past midnight in Korea.” Minho couldn’t contain the strained little laugh that slipped past him, rubbing his sleeve against his nose as he sniffled. Chan always saw right through him. It was no wonder he could do just the same through phone.

Minho imagined laying his head against Chan’s warm, solid chest, imagined running his hand through his bleached hair and nagging him about taking better care of it. He imagined placing soft kisses along the column of his neck, wrapping his arms around him and holding him like he was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

Because he was.

“I miss you,” he said, voice wet with a barely contained sob. He imagined how Chan would shake against him as he laughed, how he would brush Minho’s fringe from his eyes, how his thumbs would stroke up and down against his sides as he looked at Minho with all the warmth in the world. Warmth he’d never experienced before. “I miss you so much.”

The line went awfully quiet. All Minho heard was quiet static, and what sounded like a fan whirring in the background. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching as he fought to regain control of his tears. He failed miserably.

“Baby, listen to me,” Chan broke the silence, and Minho stopped breathing.

“I miss you too, every day. This place is so quiet without you, and – “ there was a slight quiver in his voice, “ – and even though I don’t regret coming here, you’re still on my mind, all the time.” A garbled half-sob-half-laugh was all Minho had to offer in reply. “I swear to God Minho, if you keep crying I am going to bawl my eyes out in the middle of the cafeteria,” he said through a strained sounding laugh of his own.

“Good to know I’m still an earworm,” he joked halfheartedly. A gust of wind sent chills down Minho’s spine, and he huddled in on himself, pressing the phone closer to his ear. He didn’t care about the cold. Not when it felt like a massive sack of rocks lifted off his back. Not when, for the first time in days, his head felt light and clear again.

“You bet your ass you are – Wait, are you outside? Minho!” Chan exclaimed, making Minho burst into a fit of hoarse giggles. “No, for God’s sake – Get inside! I checked the weather for Seoul this morning, its freezing!” He must be getting stares from the other people in the cafeteria with how loud he was chastising Minho for his poor life choices. “Holy shit, you’re on the roof again, aren’t you? Lee Minho, I am going to come down there myself and – “

“Don’t worry, don’t worry, I’m going,” Minho cut him off, voice thrilling with laughter. He felt so free and light he might float off into the sky.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he murmured once the laughter ebbed away, warmth pooling in his gut.

“Yeah – yeah, I needed to hear yours too.” Chan said softly. Minho could hear the smile in his voice, one of the small, private ones he didn’t let anyone other than Minho see. “But dude, get back inside! You’re going to catch a cold. And _please_ be careful on that fire-escape.”

“I will be, promise. And.. I’ll call you again soon,” Minho said as he stood up, dreading the moment when the line would go silent again. He knew it had to happen, he knew it, but he would do anything to make this moment last forever. “I love you,”

“Talk to ya soon. I love you too, you sap,” Chan teased fondly. Minho smiled, staring down at his worn out sneakers. “January will come before we know it.” He added, determined and strong as always. Minho latched onto that, and prayed it would be enough.

“Goodbye.” _Don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go_

“Boo-bye Minho, get back safe!” It was probably just Minho projecting, but he thought the cheer in Chan’s voice might be a little forced.

Then, the line went dead. Minho felt his heart burn and melt to black all over again as the loneliness of the empty night crept back into his bones. He was just about to pocket his phone, when it lit up with a notification.

_If Woojin tells me you have a fever anytime soon I’m calling the cops )-: <_

Minho stared at the text, read and re-read it, anchoring himself. He was going to be okay.

 _the police are no match for me ,_ he shot back clumsily with his frozen fingers.

As Minho got back into bed that night, the empty side didn’t feel as cold as it used to, and he fell asleep to the sound of Chan’s voice echoing in his head.


	2. Epilogue

Minho stretched his hands over his head, hearing his spine crack as his sore muscles pulled taught. Finals were over, but he was too much of a nervous wreck to stop obsessing over his final essay. It wasn’t due until summer, but he couldn’t stand having it hang over his head.

That, and he needed do distract himself. It was Friday January 11th, and Chan would be coming home in three days. _Three days._ If Minho stopped working now, he might just go insane with anticipation.

It had been difficult. Minho still remembered that night he called Chan from the roof. He had been sickly for a week afterwards, miserable and feverish even under Woojin’s watchful eye. He had threatened to install an alarm that would go off whenever Minho left the dorm. Chan hadn’t been happy either, shrieking into the phone with the wrath of every mother bear in the universe combined. _What were you thinking!?_ He had fussed, but Minho had silently reveled in it. Being doted on felt nice, even if it was through grainy video chats and phone calls.

Minho gathered his scattered papers into a neat pile, smoothing out the creases as he reluctantly put them away for the night. It was 9pm already, and he hadn’t eaten since lunch. Burying himself in work really wasn’t doing him any good – his body felt like it was 80 years old and counting.

A familiar buzz sounded from his pocket as he made his way into the kitchen. He fished around for his phone, pulling it out to reveal a notification blinking at him from the home screen. A text from Chan – oh, it was an image. Maybe he had met another dog. Germany had tons of them, for some reason.

He opened it and –

Minho choked on his own spit. That was a picture of his – was that his – is that –

His _door_?

Minho whipped around, heart in his throat and eyes blown so wide they might as well be a second away from tumbling clear out of his skull. It didn’t make any sense, Chan wasn’t due home until –

A light knock, then the door pushed open. There was a flash of platinum hair – and that was all Minho needed to see. He was moving before he realized what was happening, taking a running leap into Chan’s arms and sending the poor man toppling backwards into the barely closed door with a loud _oof._

“Hello to you too,” Chan grunted through a mouthful of dark hair, and oh my god Minho was crying. Hot, happy tears surged from his eyes and he clung to Chan like his life depended on it, like he would disappear again if he ever let go.

“You’re early,” he wheezed dumbly, burying his face in Chans neck and inhaling, long and deep, grounding himself in the familiar scent that he hadn’t been able to smell for _months._ Chan’s chest shook with a quiet chuckle as he wrapped his arms around Minho’s back and pulled him closer, if that was even possible at this point.

“I was offered an earlier flight and I wanted to surprise you, so I got Woojin to pick me up from the airport,” he explained, sounding a little abashed. Normal-Minho might’ve thrown a theatrical fit over such a thing, but current-Minho just laughed. A high pitched, hiccupping laugh. He pulled away just enough to meet Chan’s teary eyes.

Minho didn’t know what to say, so he just stared. Chan had gotten a bit of a tan and his black roots were peeking through. He looked strong, healthy and happy, and the mere sight soothed every aching muscle in his body. Chan smiled at him, head tilted up just a little to accommodate their height difference. “I can’t believe you,” Minho said breathily once he found his voice again, eyes crinkling with how wide he was smiling.

Who leaned in first, he couldn’t tell, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the blissful feeling of Chan’s lips against his after so long, all that mattered was the safe, secure hands holding him steady after six months of freefall.

All that mattered was that Chan was here again, and Minho could finally – _finally_ – breathe.

“I missed you,” Chan whispered into the inch of space between them as they parted for air.

“I missed you, too.”

                                                                                                                            

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deserve a happy reunion scene and no one can tell me otherwise


End file.
